It Runs in the Family
by onlyoneformeisme
Summary: She liked it when it was silent.


_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry Assignment #9**_

 _Muggle Art Task #1: Write about someone suffering a mental illness._

 ** _Word count will be at end._**

* * *

All of the Blacks, from what she could remember and what she saw, all suffered from the same illness. Her own sister, Bellatrix, suffered from; her aunt, Walburga Black, had as well. Her cousin, Sirius Black, had suffered it, too.

It seemed that only she, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, was the last one to have not suffered it yet.

She remembered when she was younger how her aunt would go on rants and would scream. She remembered Sirius being screamed at when they were little for having not put something away. She remembered the day her aunt had blasted Sirius's name off of the Tapestry, screaming, "HE IS NOT MY SON NO LONGER!" before she had vanished upstairs.

She also remembered when her sister had started to go crazy, too.

But she didn't want to think of that now.

All she wanted to do was to enjoy the time she had with her son.

* * *

It was a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts when she noticed things were different. She was starting to see and hear things, things her son would tell her he couldn't see. He would place his hand on her arm, a concerned look on his face as he would ask, "Are you alright, mother?"

She would shake him off with a, "Yes, dear, I'm fine."

But she wasn't.

She tried to keep herself occupied, especially by doing the garden when she could. She would do some light shopping, maybe some light reading, or go and see the preparations for Hogwarts and how it was coming along.

The voices, though, would follow her. Like phantoms, they would whisper to her in groups or by one, spilling dark secrets and dark fantasies. They would scream, laugh, cry, mock her, and then they would fall silent.

She liked it when it was silent.

* * *

A year had passed and she found herself making her way to St. Mungo's, telling Draco that she would be fine by herself and to enjoy his afternoon with Potter ( _Harry_ , the voices whispered to her) and that she would see him later. She, of course, hadn't told him why she was going to St. Mungo's in the first place. She didn't want him to worry.

Exiting the floo, she dusted her clothes off lightly as she looked around the waiting room of St. Mungo's. It was quiet, with only two others in the room; a wizard with his head leant back was snoring away while a witch sat in another chair reading a copy of the Daily Prophet. The front desk was where she headed, the head of the receptionist behind poking about behind a stack of papers.

She cleared her throat, capturing the receptionist's attention.

"Oh!" the receptionist said. "Sorry, hold on, I'll be right with you!"

She watched, amused, as the receptionist pushed the papers away from her and onto another desk, brown graying hair tied back into a bun that was falling out. She turned to her with a smile on her face and asked, "What is it you need, ma'am?"

"I have an appointment?"

"Oh, let me check . . ." She looked through the clipboard that lay on the table before her, flipping through papers before she grinned and looked back up. "A Mrs. Malfoy here to see Healer Burns?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Good, yes, he should be right with you. If you'd take a seat?"

"Oh, of course. Thank you."

The receptionist gave her another smile as she made her way over to a seat and sat down. She pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet over to herself and flipped through the pages, skimming articles. There wasn't much; new laws on creatures, when Hogwarts should be expected to open up again, whether students who hadn't been there for their seventh year would return, new potions created, etc.

Sighing, she set the paper down and decided to just look at her nails.

 _That man over there isn't really sleeping._

 ** _He's probably dead._**

 **Maybe he's here to tell the doctor that he needs stronger meds so he stops hearing the voices**.

 _Like us?_

 **Nah**.

 _ **Like her, over there.**_

Twitching slightly, she listened as the voices continued to talk back and forth, having conversations. She wondered how any other of her family members dealt with this. She wondered how she would deal with this.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

She looked up quickly, smiling in relief as she saw the man before her. She stood quickly. "Healer Burns, thank you for meeting with me."

He shook his head as they made their way out of the waiting room and down the hall. "It's never a problem, Mrs. Malfoy. Especially if you believe you may have something bad?"

"Ah, yes . . ." she trailed off as they entered the room.

She sat down in the chair across from him as he picked up a clipboard and pen, moving his chair so he could look at her. "Now, Mrs. Malfoy, What seems to be the problem?"

She sighed. "I . . . hear things," she began. "Voices, if you will. And I see things that aren't there, things that shouldn't be there."

"What sort of things, to be precise?"

"Well, I keep seeing Auntie Walburga whenever I visit the Tapestry we have in our manor. I happen to see old relatives of mine, like Druella, Regulus, and Sirius. All of them."

"Hmmmm . . ." he mused. "Do you mind if you tell me more?"

So she told him.

* * *

"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm sorry to tell you, but you have schizophrenia."

Her whole world came crashing down.

* * *

She never told Draco, who was always concerned for her. She didn't want to worry him with this, have him worry if he might have this-this _illness_ like she does.

She bottled it up and pretended everything was okay.

Even when it wasn't.

* * *

By the time Draco had married and had had kids, she was hysterical.

She had been moved into St. Mungo's Pyschtriactic Ward, where she was tended to and visited by her son and his family.

There were days where she was hysterical from the voices and the things she saw. She would scream at the voices, throw things at the hallucinations, and would tug at her hair in anger. She would then cry herself to sleep.

She never remembered her grandchildren's names, or the friends they would bring with them.

She hoped to Merlin himself that her son didn't have schizophrenia.

But if he did, it would be because it ran in the family.

* * *

 _[word count: 1,088]_


End file.
